


Past, Present, Future.

by withoutwords



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, a sex scene, vague mentions of mental illness and abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5549267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutwords/pseuds/withoutwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I forgot to say - ”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I was right and you were wrong.”</i>
</p><p> <i>“Think I already said that, actually,” Robert growls, but he’s smiling. “I forgot – Merry Christmas.”</i></p><p> <br/>Looking back on what was, seeing what is, and imagining what might be – at Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past, Present, Future.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my contribution to the Robron Secret Santa over on [tumblr](http://robronsecretsanta.tumblr.com). This was written for the lovely smugsuggers, who was so kind about it, thank you :) So glad you enjoyed it!
> 
> Happy New Year Robron Fandom X

**_Christmas, 2014._ **

The whole day’s a mess.

Aaron can’t remember the last time Christmas wasn’t a mess, honestly, so at least there’s some semblance of tradition. From Vic’s tears to Andy’s fists, Aaron feels like he’s on the outside with his face pressed to the glass. He feels like Robert’s a train wreck he can’t tear his eyes from and that if he could just get in, if he could just get close, maybe he could make it all right.

“Where are you?” is the first thing Robert asks when he calls Aaron later that night. The wedding party are all out in the pub; Aaron can hear Mariah Carey start filtering through to where he is in the kitchen. His head drops.

“Just at home.”

“Can you get away?”

“I’ll dig out of here with a spoon if I have to,” Aaron grumbles, and as if on cue he hears his mum start singing loud and off key. Someone’s brought in a microphone. “Christ, tell me _you_ can get away.”

The sound of Robert’s soft laughter makes Aaron’s neck flush, and he tries to tamp down on his own smile. “That’s what I’m calling for. The garage?”

“Alright, yeah. Give me half hour?”

Aaron pulls off the stupid suit and has a quick shower, washing off the dirt of the day. The dirt of angry looks and vicious words; of Robert standing out in the cold with a door slammed in his face. And for what? A practical joke? A sibling rivalry that started long before most of those people even rolled into Emmerdale, loaded up with all their own bad decisions and murky pasts.

It’s amazing how quickly people forget, and close that door.

(Maybe it was amazing how quickly Aaron opened it.)

Aaron had been nothing but one disaster after another, for a while. Younger, sure, but lost all the same. On the edge of something he didn’t understand, just like Robert, not sure who he was but so sure it wasn’t _that_. Aaron, though, had always had somewhere to go. An open door.

Now, maybe, Robert has Aaron.

“You got changed,” Robert says as Aaron hurriedly tries to get the garage open later. He can feel Robert’s fingers pulling at the waistband of his jeans, his breath warm against the back of Aaron’s neck. 

“You didn’t.”

“I was kicked out of the bedroom.”

Aaron frowns, dropping the keys while Robert closes the door behind them. There’s just the low light of the lamp reflecting around, so quiet and reminiscent of the first time they did this. “Right. Consolation prize, am I?”

“You know you’re not,” Robert says as he comes closer, his hands in his pockets and that same cocky smile from earlier. “If Katie hadn’t been there I - ”

“Yeah?” Aaron teases, knowing full well that Robert can’t say it, can’t verbalise what they do any more than to ask Aaron _was it good for you?_ It’s always said with a heavy tongue in his cheek. He knows exactly how good it is. “You what?”

“I would’ve done more of this.”

Robert closes the space between them, his hands out to cup Aaron’s face and kiss. It’s firm and possessive and takes Aaron’s breath away, opening his mouth to breathe Robert in instead. Aaron’s never been like this, easy and pliant, never let himself be taken somewhere he wasn’t 100% sure he wanted to be.

He wants to be with Robert, he _wants_ Robert, but he’d rather it not be like this. Not a secret hidden in the dark, lying to the people he loves.

“Let me,” Robert gasps, a hand tracking under Aaron’s shirt and splayed over the scars along his belly. Robert pushes Aaron until Aaron’s back hits the work bench, a frenzied, hectic mess of getting Aaron propped up enough to wrap his legs around Robert’s waist. He fists hands in Robert’s hair and runs his bottom lip over the fading bruise at Robert’s eye. He pulls him in and thrusts at him and revels in the groaning sounds, in the knowledge that Robert wants Aaron as much as Aaron wants him.

“You better not have plans later,” Robert says heavily, almost like a warning, while Aaron pulls at Robert’s jacket to strip it off. He’s so beautiful, so big and taut and masculine; but still soft, still lithe, provocative. Aaron huffs at him.

“You might convince me to move to the floor or somethin’.”

“Good.” Robert’s hands venture around, blunt nails scratching at the skin of Aaron’s back. He kisses gently at Aaron’s chin, his cheek, the gaze of his eyes making Aaron feel stupid and light headed. “I forgot to say - ”

“I was right and you were wrong.”

“Think I already said that, actually,” Robert growls, but he’s smiling. “I forgot – Merry Christmas.”

Aaron lets his head fall, resting it against Robert’s and starting work on his buttons. “Merry Christmas,” he says, like a whisper around the lump in his throat, and then Robert’s leaning up for a kiss, wet and warm and sinking in.

He’ll let Robert take him places he’s not sure he wants to be.

He just hopes the tide will bring them back. Together.

**_Christmas, 2015._ **

Aaron peers at the bottom of his glass.

The pub’s quiet this year. There’s only a few tables occupied; just easy, bubbling chatter and the sound of crackers popping every now and then. Aaron’s phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it.

Christmas at the Dingles had been too much for him.

Too much talk, and too much sound – too much silence, and inaction, and surrender. Aaron couldn’t stomach the sight of his mum pretending Gordon was anything more than a donor. He couldn’t stand the thought of her parading him around like a hero because he is, was, _might_ be dying.

A part of Aaron was dead because of him, and no one had mourned that.

“Same again,” he tells Doug when Doug comes out from the back, shaking his glass like a bell. He’s not sure what the Sugdens are up to for Christmas, but he knows asking the question is out of his depth right now. He’s already rolling around in his misery, he doesn’t need to add Robert to the mix.

“Everything alright, lad?” Doug asks, and Aaron appreciates that he can put his differences aside for Christmas.

“Yeah, fine. Actually, I might take this one…” he points to a vacant corner, heading over and hunkering down, wallowing in his beer. He’s been listening to Christmas carols for at least a month now, but he finds he doesn’t mind. The Woolpack’s not exactly home to quality music for the other eleven months of the year anyway.

Plus, his mum likes them. They make her smile, and sweep her away, to the point she starts singing and nudges Aaron to join in. He never does, but he doesn’t tell her to stop either. Her smiling, singing – hell, even laughing – are gifts that he won’t be turning away again.

“Alright?”

Robert drops into a seat next to Aaron, wearing a blue patterned shirt and trousers, looking smart. Aaron rolls his eyes, and pulls away; Doug’s obviously been in to tell them all that poor Aaron Livesy’s alone on Christmas. He wonders whether that’s a concern tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that.

“Do one,” Aaron says with a sigh, feeling the anger start twisting at his throat again. He can’t be here. He can’t sit next to this man and feel the way he does; his lust battling with his loathing. He can’t consolidate the fact Robert’s been inside him with the same fact Robert’s pointed a gun in his face.

Sure, he’s starting to realise now – with his mum, and what she’s done, and why she’s done it – he’s starting to understand that there isn’t one layer to Robert. That writing ‘Psychopath’ on a _Hello! My Name Is sticker_ can’t actually begin to describe him. Aaron knows him – he still believes he knows Robert better than anyone, or as much as Robert’s allowed someone to know him – but that doesn’t make everything better.

That doesn’t mean he wants to get pulled back in.

“I just came to check on you. Doug thought - ”

“I’m not a flippin’ kid, Robert,” Aaron shouts, swinging a hand. He doesn’t care if he’s attracting attention. “I don’t need minding.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“What was it like, then? You thought you’d come out here, start pushing me buttons, remind me that you’re back in my life again?”

“Aaron.”

“I don’t need any more of – I got enough. So just say what you want and sod off, yeah?”

“I didn’t have anything to say. Just thought you might.”

Aaron looks at Robert. He’s wearing that face Aaron only saw in private, or when Robert thought no one was looking. The _I love you_ face, the _I’m not messing you around_ face, the face that Aaron always believed was true. Was maybe the truest thing about Robert. He just isn’t sure any more.

“I just wanted to be on my own.”

“You’ve always wanted that.”

“No,” Aaron says, pointedly, clenching his jaw and making Robert understand what that means. “I haven’t.”

Robert understands. He drops his eyes to where he’s playing with the condensation on his glass. “I heard your dad’s back in town.”

“Jesus, don’t, you don’t even know.”

“I’m sorry – I just. I know what that’s like, absent fathers, I thought if you - ”

“He wasn’t absent enough,” Aaron grits out, feeling his whole body go tense. There aren’t enough scars on his body to tell of the real damage he’s suffered. Gordon didn’t have to hit him to hurt him. “He still isn’t.”

“Right. Yeah.”

There’s quiet. They gulp at their beers and try not to catch each other looking. It’s funny how much older Robert looks now, after everything. How he looks more serious, more settled, then he did when he was married with lots of money. Aaron almost can’t bear it.

“Hey,” Robert reaches out to put his hand on Aaron’s, and while he flinches he doesn’t pull away. “I’ve done a lot of bad things. I know I have. But… but not you, yeah? You were never a bad thing.”

Aaron feels like all the air’s been suddenly sucked from the room. Robert holds his gaze, and dips his head, and if Aaron were a stronger man he would deny Robert the satisfaction. He’d move.

“I just should’ve done it better,” Robert says softly, and he’s pressing his mouth to Aaron’s head and Aaron’s closing his eyes. He’s not stronger, he isn’t a strong man at all.

“Merry Christmas.”

**Christmas 2016.**

There’s light streaming through from the window.

Aaron had already told Robert he was going to need thicker curtains, that even in winter he was going to have the early morning glare coming in as the sun rose. Robert had laughed. He’d made some queer joke about Aaron being a dab hand with interior design and they’d ended up wrestling on the kitchen floor. Aaron had won.

This morning, though, Aaron’s happy to be right. The light gives the room a blue and greyish tinge, painting across Robert’s skin where he’s perched on his knees, perched on Aaron’s cock. The sheets are bunched around them like waves, fitting, considering the slow, rocking thrust of their bodies and the gentle rush of their breathing. Robert looks almost ethereal, angled back, his eyes closed and his lips parted as he meets Aaron, coming down and going deep.

“Aaron,” Robert’s panting softly, repetitively, “Aaron, Aaron, fuck.”

He’d started this, had woken Aaron with his mouth on his dick and _is this what you got me, I want this_. There was no frenzy, despite their desperation. Robert had told him everything he wanted in that gravelly, morning voice; had prepared Aaron dutifully before giving him gentle, whispering directions to prepare Robert.

It almost felt like a dream.

“Jesus, Robert, I’m close,” Aaron says, his motions speeding up and that familiar heat twisting low in his belly, in his balls. His knees and his thighs and his lower back protest but everything else says, _yes, yes_ , from the hot flush of his throat, his chest, to the hands he has dug into Robert’s hips. Robert flails to grab on to one of those hands, bringing it to his cock to pull him off.

“Yes, good, do it,” he grunts, Aaron watching their entwined hands, the slick and desperate motions over the thick, veined length of Robert’s shaft. Aaron’s watching and wanting, fighting back the sudden thirst for dominance, to push Robert into the mattress and do it _his_ way. To stake claim, to make Robert know he’s being had, that Aaron has him, that no one else does.

Aaron comes. It’s hard and shaking, like his skin and bones are alight with fire, Robert clenching around him as he follows.

They hum and gasp and move apart, the obscene slick slap of their bodies so familiar. Aaron lets Robert take care of the condom, the mess, and he’s a little rough - tired and careless - but Aaron barely feels it. He’s just melting snow, losing shape, sinking into nothing. Or everything. Or Robert.

“Merry Christmas,” Robert says some time later, curling his body up against Aaron’s, Aaron throwing a careless arm around his shoulders. “Did I shag you into a coma?”

“Sod off,” Aaron grumbles around a smile, kissing Robert when he leans up for one and saying, “Merry Christmas,” all the same.

“Let’s stay here all day.”

“Everyone’ll love that,” Aaron says sarcastically, unable to keep his eyes open. Robert’s fingers make patterns across his belly, his leg nudges in between Aaron’s. They’re naked and exposed, but sweaty and warm, and Aaron can’t remember where Robert threw his boxers anyway.

“Who cares?”

“You do. You seriously want to miss out on that turkey you’ve been going on about for like, two weeks?”

“Diane’ll save me some.”

“Eh, with Adam there?” Aaron says, peeling his eyes open. “Good luck to her.”

“Fine,” Robert says, mock huffing, getting up on his hands and knees and locking Aaron’s arms. “If you don’t want to spend the whole day with me - ”

“I _am_ spending the whole - ”

“In bed,” he says, kissing at Aaron’s neck, “Or in the shower,” kissing at Aaron’s shoulder, “Or under the Christmas tree,” kissing at his chest.

“We could not fit under the tree, are you daft?”

Robert sits up on Aaron’s thighs, his skin blotchy red and his soft dick heavy at Aaron’s. Aaron’s hand comes to stroke Robert’s knee idly, unable to stop himself from touching. Two years of this, and not a day has passed that he didn’t want to touch. Even if he did hate himself for it, once. “I have dreams, Aaron, stop trying to squash my dreams.”

“ _Idiot_.”

“You know, there’s a way around this.”

“Yeah, like havin’ a shower and gettin’ ready?”

“No, like you moving in with me.”

“Robert, come on,” Aaron grumbles, nudging Robert off enough that he can sit up. Truthfully, this is the fourth night in a row that he’s stayed here. Before that it was about five. Half of his things are here, too. It’s just not official, it’s not final, and Aaron likes it that way. He likes some level of precaution.

“I’m serious,” Robert says quietly where he’s plonked on the bed behind Aaron.

“I know you are, and I already told you, no.”

Robert shifts enough to get a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, to get his mouth on the knobbly end of his spine. “I feel like you’ve always got one foot out the door.”

Aaron huffs at him, his hands curling tight around the edge of the mattress. It’s only been six months, give or take, and a slow, heated build. They have time now, is the thing. They have honesty, and choice, and freedom from their lies. They’re new. “What, like I don’t know how that feels? You barely had a toe in the door last year.”

“This is different,” Robert murmurs against the skin of Aaron’s back, his hand now reaching out to pull Aaron into his chest. “I’m in. All of me is in.”

“I get that, I just - ” Aaron sighs, hanging his head to stare at his lap. “I’m not ready. That doesn’t mean I’m not in this, ‘cause I am. I’m just not ready to – I’m not ready.”

“Okay,” Robert says softly, his hand coming up to Aaron’s neck, his face, making Aaron turn into him. “Alright, just – just say the word, yeah? This place isn’t the same without you in it.”

The kiss is a dry press of lips, the twist of Robert’s hand in Aaron’s hair. It’s a gentle seal, a promise, and Aaron kisses back. He says,

“I will,” and again with his cheek pressed to Robert’s, “I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr.](thefancyspin.tumblr.com)


End file.
